April 16, 2014

parenting pet peeves

Two of my biggest pet peeves about
parenting: arranged playdates and organized team snacks. There I said it. It’s
out there. And, you can’t make me take it back. Just the mere mention of one of
these topics makes my insides flop around and my mind start to spinning inside
my skull.

Maybe two babies ago I would have been all over a playdate,
this arranged appointment for children to get together to play, like friggin’
Martha Stewart on Styrofoam balls and a hot glue gun. I would have had that
playdate arranged and on the calendar for weeks. I would have looked forward to
it. I would have showered for it. I would hope the other parent invited me
inside the house so I could engage in an adult conversation.

Now, it’s just another pull on my already overbooked
schedule. Don’t get me wrong, my kids play with other kids for Pete’s sake. I
just like it when it happens organically. Naturally. When the neighborhood
hooligans stop in for some hide ‘n go seek or bike riding. Or when we are at
the ball park for a little league game and all the little siblings run around
with sticks and shout “you’re it!!” Or when the school friend calls out of the
blue and asked for an impromptu sleep over. Or when some wood gets thrown in
the fire pit and we skewer marshmallows to roast with friends that happen to be
around. That’s what I enjoy. That’s what feels right. Not too long ago I was victim of parenting peer pressure
about my daughter’s playdate schedule. I was told that even though it was
realized our family is busy with school and sports, her friends miss her. Talk
about a guilt trip. I completely understand that I could be misinterpreting the
conversation and I shouldn’t put feelings behind words written in emails.
However, there is truth to “it’s not what you wrote, but how you wrote it”. Believe
me. It’s true.

The one thing I’m not worried about regarding my children is
their social skills. The three of them know how to make friends. Shy might be
my middle name, but I was handed offspring who don’t understand the definition
of the word.

Pet peeve numero dos: Do not e-v-e-n get me started on
organized team snacks people. Such. A. Pain. I mean, I understand the concept.
And I even understand the kids LOVE the team snacks almost more than actually playing
the sport. Sometimes I think the kids endure the hour of t-ball just for the
snack at the end of the game. If you have a child on an organized sport team,
you are most likely familiar with a team of children gathering like a motley
crew of misfit pirates with one clear ring leader yelling “SNACKS!!!!” as they
run with a wild look in their eyes to parent standing on the side lines with the
booty. And, just like that, the carefully arranged Gatorade bottles, orange
slices, and rice krispy treats placed in cellophane bags tied with ribbons to
match the team colors are wiped out in a matter of milliseconds. After which
the snack parent looks dazed and wondering what actually happened in the blur
of grubby hands, loud noises and dust flying. Did she just get groped by a
first grader?!? And, never fear there is always that one sibling with puppy-dog
eyes inquiring about any leftovers at the very end that the snack parent has to
disappoint and watch run off crying because they didn’t get any.

Which brings me to my point…..Organized team snacks is
spendy yo! It sounds good in theory. Nine to twelve kids on the team. Easy
right? But don’t forget the half dozen to dozen siblings. Plus the random
cousin or neighbor kid that tags along. And, that one kid from the other team
who must have a snack beacon chip installed and comes snooping around as you
wonder where his parents are but can never locate.

Let me tell you something. Juice boxes aren’t cheap! And, who
has time to make wholesome snacks or cut up apples this day and age? Not me. The
shear amount of food allergies and gluten intolerances is off the charts by the
way. Never forget the teammates who have food allergies. They possess mothers
who moonlight as food police. That’s a battle you never want to encounter. Never.
My head is spinning just thinking about it.